University of South Carolina Libraries
WT' v-jtX | ^ ^ By WALTE # < V_ as? ?gj? III CHAPTER XVII. 17 ] 1 "We were parted in the fog. I have j not seen her since that night It was in the fog. We tried to die together, Dittmer," she whispered?"we did in-1 deed, but we were not allowed." "Come, Lily," said the gentleman, '.We block the way." He pushed her gently into the carriage, and followed, taking no notice at (ill of the clerk. Dittmer ran straight with the discovery to Tom, and was greatly astonished at the effect which the intelligence produced upon him. This was the reason why the advertisements were discontinued. CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE WORKROOM. In an upper room furnished with eight or ten sewing machines there sat as many girls at work. The room was well ventilated and warmed; the girls looked contented; there was no talking, but every girl sat over her sewing machine and guided the work, while the needle jumped up and down in that J most surprising and wonderful instrument. In a smaller room at the back a forewoman was at work. Downstairs there was a show room, quite an humble kind of show room, in Which one or two more sewing machines were at work. And at the back of this was a 'small office or sitting room in which there were two ladies conversing. One of them was the lady who ran the concern. It was conducted on co-operative principles, .which is the reason why it has since been closed, because, of all things in this world, there is nothing more difficult than to persuade people to buy things at co-operative productive etores?that is to say, where the producers sell their things without the medium of boss, chief, bourgeois, or master. This particular attempt was just tben in the stage wbeu a little feeble public interest in it bad been excited by superhuman efforts of its friends, and success seemed possible, though there were many anxieties. The two ladies in the office were discussing these anxieties and possibilities. One of them, the manager of the concern, a lady no longer young, had spent her whole life among the workingwomen. "My dear," she said to the younger lady?it was the same young lady who Lad caught Katherine on the bench as she was falling forward?"I really do think we have made a move." ******* The above stars represent quite a long conversation about lineu garments, and orders, and expenses, and receipts, from the co-operative point of view uecpijf iuicicouua< "And bow do you get on with your hands?" "There is the usual percentage of stupid girls, lazy girls, and incompetent girls. I know exactly what to expect. The most satisfactory of all is the girl you brought to me?Katharine." f" ( "What is her full name?" "I do not know?I have not yet asked her. She is quick to learn, obedient, and ladylike." "Yes. She is lady-like, poor thing! Perhaps she was formerly a lady's maid." "Poor thing!" the other echoed. "Without friends and relations. Left to die. Oh, what a fate! What a punishment!" "Yet her face is full of innocence and purity. Can such a face lie?" "She said that she had no friends and no relations. What can that mean?" "Let us go upstairs and see her." They went upstairs where Katharine sat at work before a sewing machine, quiet and industrious. She looked up and smiled as the ladies entered the room. The look, the smile, the very carriage of her head, were altogether different from the manner in which the other girls greeted the chief. These girls were all what we call decent and respectable; some of them were comely; some were even pretty, as London work girls very often are, petites. with narrow, sloping shoulders, small face, and large eyes; some were country bred, and showed it in their figures and the ample width 6t their shoulders; some had the manners of the shop; some of the factory; some, of the Londou back street; some, of the slum; some, of the farm; some, of the servants' hall; none of them had the manners which were shown by so simple a thing as Katharine's smile when she lifted her head. She suffered no longer; she knew nnt, and had not the least suspicion, of the dreadful things that were thought and said about her by the ladiesyes. the very ladies?who had befriended her. She was in a haven of rest. She learned readily how to use the sewing machine; she even took some kind of interest in the work; she sat steadily working all day; she gained a sufficient weekly wage; and she had a room in a decent house recommended by the lady who ran the co-operative business. The young lady, her rescuer, shook hands with her, though somewhat doubtfully?there are several ways of shaking hands, as everybody knows, and when a young lady shakes hands with a girl who has the manners of a lady, but has been picked up starving, and confesses to having no friends and no relations, a certain somethingconstraint, doubt, condescension, or encouragement?cannot but be remarked in the manner of extending or withdrawing the hand. Chapters?whole essays?great books?might be written on the differences, shades, and grades of shaking hand.s, from the affable greeting of a prince to tile cheerful grasp which a work-liouso chaplain bestows upon his sheep. Katharine, however, noticed nothing unusual in this welcome. r - %> RBESANT.^ 4 i "You are quite strong and -well again now, are you?" asked tlie young lady. "Quite, thank j?ou." "Are you still living in the. same house?" "Yes," Katharine replied, -without interest in the matter. "They are quiet people -who leave me alone." "May I call upon you some day?" "Certainly. Why not?" "It must be on Sunday, after service. I shall not interrupt you then. My name is Katharine, like yours?Katharine Willoughby. You will tell me yours, perhaps, when I call at your lodgings. I should so much like," she added, in a lower voice, "to be your friend, if you -will let me." Katharine made no reply. But her eye fell upon the girl's dress. There was a colored scarf round her neck, and a bit of bright color in her hat, and tan-colored gloves. "I thought," she said, "that you were in deep mourning. Was I dreaming? Sometimes a strange feeling comes over me. as if everything was a dream." "You are quite right. I was in deep mourning. But, oh, Katharine, on the very day that I found you the most joyful news that ever reached any girl came to me. It told me that the?the person for whom I mourned was not dead at all, but living, and I put off my mourning." "Was it your lover?" "Yes, it was my lover. Thank God, he was restored to those who love him." "Come on Sunday," said Katharine, suddenly interested. "I will tell you of all my trouble, if you are not too happy to hear it." On Sunday morning Miss Willoughby called. But she could not hear the story that morning, because the girl lay in bed with some kind of fever. Her head and her hands were hot; her words were wandering. She spoke of the fog and of the night, and called upon Tom to come back and help her. But as for her story, she could not tell it, because reason and will and knowledge and self-rule had left h<r brain, wmcn was tne aooae ot aejuium. They carried her to the hgspital for women in the Marylebone Road. There was nothing to show where she came from or who were her friends. In her pocket?girls no longer, except in books, carry treasures in their bosoms?lay tied together a packet o 1 letters. They were from a man who signed himself "Tnm"?trmt r?nnrt?nnfliinp- hnt "Trim" ?and addressed b?r as Katharine. What can be done -with "Tom?" This Tom was madly in love "with her. He called her every endearing name that a j fond lover can jjnvent; he recalled the past days of happiness together; he looked forward to the future. He was in a rail^A* irain; he was on board a , was among soldiers; he spoke 'of natives; he spoke of Arabs?clearly therefore, a Tom among Egyptians. Probably a Tom who had been killed. He did not somehow write like an officer; his letters contained no news; for that he referred her to the papers. All he had to tell her was that he loved her?he loved her?he loved her?and was always and forever her Tom. xne sister 01 tug waru reau inese sacred letters, and placed them, with a sigh that so much honest love should he lost, under Katharine's pillow. Time enough to try and find out, if she grew worse, what had become of this Tom, and who his Katharine really was. She did grow worse, but she had youth on her side and a good constitution, which had certainly not been spoiled by luxurious living or the want of exercise. She even lay at the point of death; had she died there would have been nothing to establish her identity but those letters and her handkerchief marked "K. It. C." Then she would have been buried, and Lily's prophecy would have come partly true, j "She is better this morning," said the Sister. "Her head is cool. She has been sleeping a long time." "She is more beautiful than ever in her weakness." It was Miss Wiilougbby who stood beside the bed with th?> Sister and the nurse. "Sister, think of it! She told me she was without friends or relations. Is it possible?" "It is certainly not possible," said the Sister. "There is perfect innocence in her face and?more than that?in her talk. We hear the delirious talk of women whose lives have not been innocent, and Ave learn their past. This girl's mind is as innocent as her face. You might make a painting of that, and call it 'Eve Before the Fall.' or 'Una," or 'Mary, the Sister of Martha.' She may bo friendless, but?" The Sister shook her head and went away. Miss Willoughby sat by the bedside and waited. "No friends and no relations." How could a girl have neither friends nor relations? Yet to conclude that the girl deserved to bave none was cruel and unjust. Miss Willougbby was ashamed of ber bard thoughts. Besides she bad beard from the Sister about those letters. Then Katharine opened ber eyes again, and looked as if she could speak. "Do you know me now dear?" asked Miss Willougbby. "Yes, I know you." "You have been very ill. You are still weak. You must not talk much. But tell me your name." "Katharine Regina." "What?" Miss Willougbby started. "Mow did you get that name?" "It is my Christian name." "What is your surname? What was your father's name?" "Willougbby Capel?" "Willougbby?Katharine Rogin;i! It is very strange. Ilavc you any relations named Willougbby?" "I have no relations at all." Then sbe closed ber eyes again. "Leave ber now," said the nurse. "She is weak, and bad better rest and go to sleep again." Next day Miss Willoucbby called agaiu, bringing grapes, Every grape upon (lie bunch was a big tear of pentauce because she had thought cruelly of her patient. Only tiie pati< never knew. When one goes about city a great deal and meets with ma experiences, most of them of a tn dreadful kind, one naturally dra conclusions which would seem to ma ladies most wicked. In the same w the doctor, when you tell him cert{ things, at once suspects the very wor Katharine never knew. She was sitting up in bed, already a fair way of recovery. "Are you strong enough to talk day?" asked Miss Willoughby. "Oh. yes; I can talk to-day. Bui have only .iust begun to understand that you have done for me. I can i thank you yet " "Do not talk of that at all." "You must have thought me most 1 grateful when I was working at 1 sewing machine. But all that ti seems like a dream. I only half reme ber it. You were in mourning fii and then you put it off, and you t< me something." "i was?i was in me very ueep grief as well as the depeest mourni: for my lover was said to be dead. A now I am in the greatest joy a thankfulness because my lover 1 been miraculously restored to i Ought I not to be happy?" "I am so glad! My lover too is de; But he can never be restored to me. "Your lover, dear? Oh, you had lover, too, and he was killed, like mil Oh!" She took her hand and press it. "I know his name, because the ? ter read his letters in order to find < who you were. His name was Tom. "Yes, it was Tom. And Tom dead." "Will you tell me something mi about yourself?" she asked. "Not mi than you want to tell. I am not ci ous, indeed, but if I can help youOh! let me help you, because I met 3 on the very day that the telegram ca which brought my lover back to li In the evening, when I went hom after I left you?they brought it to 1 Oh! ray dear?my sister brought it c ing?my father kissed me?and 1 mother kissed me?and they were crying, and I knew not why?on 1 very same day when I found you. C I ever think of that day without thii ing of you, too? God has given you me so that I may deal with you as ' ^14- -r?f! 4-V> ?v> a A n/1 T rtn n YlZil liUd UUilll U J III 1UC? AUU A X.UU MV let you go away?never, never." "Oh!" said Katherine. deeply mov "what can I say?" "I shall never forget that day. ( how I rushed to tear off the bis things and to? My dear, you arf part of that day. Now tell me mo You said your name was Kathari Regina. That is my name, too. Thi is always a Katharine Regina in 1 family. And I never heard of a other family which had those t names. And your father's name Willoughby Capel. It is so very 01 that I have been thinking about it night. Tell me more. dear. You s: you had no relations." "No; I know of none. My fatl would not speak of his relations. I ? J.t 4. 4-V liavi* soiueuuies uiuu^iii mut la quarrelled with him. He was once know, in the army with the rank captain, and he had an annuity or lowance, but I do not know who pi it, or anything else at all about him "What a strange story!" "The annuity was not a very lai one. and I had to give lessons. I governess to a lady?oh, not a v< grand person?whose husband was clerk in the city. I went there ev( morning at 9, and came home at 5. i: was a good woman and kind to i I was more a companion and a nurs< governess than anything else." "Well, de..rV" "My father died suddenly at the ginning of this year. But I was i gaged by this time, and as I had T< I was happy and full of confidence, wont tn livp at Harlev House, a nil where governesses can live cheaply "I know the place. Sister, what < you say about her face? You was qu right. Go on, dear; I know Har House." "Then a very curious thing happen Tom's uncle died and left him all ! money, and for a week we were ri But a solicitor?Tom's cousin?disc ered that all the money belonged somebody else. So we were poor aga and Tom went cut to Egypt." "To Egypt?" "Yes; he was a war correspondent "Oh! Katharine?Katharine"?M Willoughby caught her hand?"tell ?tell me?what was his name?" (To be Continued.) First to Kefaee to Obey. Mrs. Sarah J. Harper Starr, of I levue. was buried Tuesday in the fa ily mausoleum at Zelienople, Pa., a a most wonderful life was ended. Mr3. Starr's marriage in Cineinn on May 22, ]S49, fs of historical i portance in ecclesiastical circles. M Harper was sixteen years old and 1 been studying in college with a vi to missionary life in foreign lands. ] Starr, a young pnysicir.n, was study toward the same end and the cou docided to wed. Miss Harper had ideas of her o on the question of the word "obey" the ritual of the church, and decic that for her it should be eliminat She found a friend in the Rev. Max^\ (Jladdis, assistant pastor of Moi Chapel, Cincinnati, who promised omit the word during the ceremo and she was ma -icd, but friends w Inconsiderate enough to say the ra riage was invalid and at the next ni( ing of the general conference of Methodist Episcopal Church held Cincinnati the clergyman who 1 omitted the word was "churched." Finally the Question became ger al and later when decisive action v taken the sentence "serve and obi was ordered stricken out of the ma monial ritual of the discipline of Methodist Church. The Methoi Protestant Church took the same act later.?Pittsburg Dispatch. Atnericuns In Switzerland. The official statistics recently p lished show that from May 15 to < tober 15, 177,085 strangers stopped hotels and boarding houses of Gene In explanation of these figures C sul-Geueral Guenthcr, of Frankfi says that of the 177,0S5 strangers ' 500 were Germans, 9018 Englishm : 35,114 Swiss, 68,513 Frenchmen i t 14^177 North Americans. _ ?esa??co0eececeeeoeeec?ec? mt | Household {flatters.: : a 5 e ny ooceccscaosceifsacooetcee ily , Keep Oilcloth Kright. Never use soap "in tlie water when cleaning oilcloth. It fades tbe colors and breaks up the paint. Ammonia also is to be avoided, because it gives the cloth a dull, dead look. If a brush is used, it should be a so:.'t one, but it j is better not to use any, except in cases where the oilcloth has been long t0" neglected or poorly washed for some time previously. L * Take a clean flannel cloth and a*ply clean, -warm water, which is finally to 10t be removed by soaking it up into the washing cloth again after it has been wrung out. The oilcloth io then wiped J"0* dry with another piece of clean flannel or coarse crash. me Of course, an oilcloth, with frequent m" washings, will look old. and the houses*' keeper should be cautious adxiut wasbing when dusting will answer just as well. est D?* Artistic Scrap Baaliet. nd The pretty brass and copper basins n(* which our students bring home from ias abroad and which are frequently to be ne* picked up in tbe foreign quarters of large cities, make excellent receptacles for scraps. The scrap box or basket ns sold in 1 ? shops and fancy goods departments is 'e* seldom In accord with the other furnichincs of n modern librarv or livinc '*s" hall. Yet as something of the kind is j))ut really necessary in a room much used, , it is well to visit a Japanese dealer 18 and see what can be found. Indian baskets or any sturdy weave are 0f grass and twigs good in shape and are color make another hint, and jars of iri- green pottery with wide open mouths ? decorated or undecorated are worth 'ou thinking about, me f n Domestic Leaks. ^ Rice and sugar left in paper bags, ne* that burst and scatter their contents. ry" Left over vegetables, fish and cooked my eggs thrown into the garbage. Bread pan left with dough sticking to it. ,an Fat put into earthen dishes to grow rancid. *? The mustard cruet left open to lose He its strength. ?er Lemons left to dry. Egg shells thrown away, instead of i e ' being washed and used to settle the | coffee. Cheese allowed to mold. l0lJ Kerosene enn left open to evaporate. a Clothespins dropped and never picked re. up. ine Boiler put away to rust. ^"e Table linen put into the wash without first removing stains and darning ny if necessary, and so on ad infinitum, wo ras How to Clean Straw Hat*. aj{ Almost any old hat, unless it is too li(J disreputable iu appearance, can be refurbished and made to do extra duty ier between seasons or on rainy days, thus j saving the new one, besides occasioniey aily affording a change in headgear, r Black straw hats, it is well known. , 1 0j can be blackened and much improved aj. in appearance either with shoe blacking or with the blacking that is now >? made especially for hats, and that may be obtained at most of tbe department .ge stores. ,as A solution of oxalic acid applied witt ;ry a stiff brush and a fresh ribbon or 2 " a bunch of flowers will do wonders foi jry the old white straw hat. <be For a black hat of fancy braid, inic ue which the dust seems to be hopelesslj ;ry ground, try the following method oi cleaning: First pin it out flat on :i board, using pins enough to hold ii be_ steady. Brush it thoroughly, then with en_ a nail brush rub on a solution of alcoom hoi, water and a little ammonia, and 2 allow it to dry before taking it off the lce board. If, after this treatment it is ? not a good color, put on a coat of hal j1(1 blacking. ite v ed. ov" i LJ at j to \HV\)*urw*i>4r i 'D' ' i ss 1116 Steamed Chicken?Clean. stuff and truss a plump chicken as for roasting. Steam until perfectly teuder at tbe leg and.bip joints; this will take nearly thirty minutes to the pound. Serve 5ei- with a bread or an egg sauce. 1I1" Cheese Fritters?Mix together font J D(* tablespoonfuls of grated cheese, three i tablespoonfni.s of dry bread crumbs, at* one-fourth teaspoouful paprika,' and 'P3" lastly four eggs which have been iss lightly beaten without separating. Fry :?l(* in hot fat to a delicate brown. '' Strawberry Farina?Cream together i t*/?l 1* c* y-\ f* frtiiv nrr?rc onil fl I f* I in"* l"c 'iV/l" * cupful of sugar, add a teaspoonful of baking powder and a teaspoonful of vanilla. Beat the whites and add to th? mixture, alternating witli one-kali' in cupful of farina. Cover with whipped e, cream and sweetened strawberries. | ed. ejj Peanut Canapes?Cut stale bread into j .ris thin slices and spread thickly with ' to butter, then place into the oven to j nT brown. Make a paste of finely chopped e*' peanuts mixed with mayonnaise and ar_ spread over the slices. Rub the yolk ,ej_ of a hard boiled egg through a sieve tlje over each, and serve ou crisp, curly let- | iu' tuce leaves. lad Steamed Pudding?One cupful of chopped suet, one cupful of molasses, ier- one cupful and a half of fine bread cas crumbs, two scant cupfuls of tlour, one ?y" teaspoonful of salt, one cupful of any tri- kind of chopped dried fruit, one teacnnAiifnl t\f hnkincr TlOWllpf n?H> SCJlIlt 11JC | ? - -o list teaspoonful of soda mixed -with one ion i cupful of sour milk. Mix, turn into a greased mold and steam for four hours. Steamed Oatmeal?Mix a half pint (1jJ_ of coarse oatmeal with one tablespoonqc_ ful of salt and one quart of boiling at .water. Flace the dish directly over the fire r.nd boil rapidly for five to * eight minutes, stirring occasionally lrt with a fork. Place the dish in a steamer and steam for one hour; if the ~ ^ meal is very coarse a little longer time ln(j may be required. Other cereals aw cooked in the same wag* % / ''vr- * * - ' " t i. ; THE GREAT DESTROYER SOME STARTLING FACTS ABOUT THE VICE OF INTEMPERANCE. I (n All the Realm of Hamnn TrHnierei> ion There is Only One Crime That May Be Compared to the Liquet Traffic. TVe shall, perhaps, be aided to realize more fully the evil of the liquor traffic by comparing it with other wrongs which .are by the civilized world regarded and treated as crimes, j But where in all the realm of human transgression, in all that dark and dismal region, where lurk iniquities of deepest dye, asks a writer in the NewVoice, shall we find a crime which may fittingly be brought into comparison with this "most degrading and ruinous of all human pursuits?" We cannot compare the liquor traffic with arson, theft or robbery, for it is the prolific parent of these. We cannot compare it with treason, for it is Itself high treasou and the instigator of disloyalty and disobedience to the most benign human government. We cannot compare it with piracy, m *- * - A# w 1111/I Ayni'c T f I or it IS UJC CU1CJL Ui uiuiutiti o. ?.?, murders without provocation. It deetroys not its enemies,?but its friends. Its cruel slaughter is not carried on among those who seek its life, but among these who faithfully guard and protcct it from harm; those who pour their earnings into its coffers and build it up in strength and influence. Those <vho sever earthly ties and sacrifice cherished friendships in defense of this traffic are its victims. Those who ilefend this traffic by their influence and their ballots are the ones most certain to fall at its hand. We are sometimes aroused to just indignation at the physician whose unskilful treatment causes the death of bis confiding patient. He causes death in a well-meant effort to preserve life and restore health. But the rum demon is influenced by no such commendable motives. To those who bring plenty to his board he brings beggary and starvation. To those who seek to pour happiness into his cup he pours out in copious draughts "distilled damnation." No other murderer is so heartless as is the liquor traffic. Should the piteous wail of wife or child pierce the ear of the would-be murderer as he seeks to slay husband and father his bloodiest weapon would fall from his 1 relaxing grasp, and be would turn with loathing from the terrible crime. But no tears or prayers or piteous pleadings avail with the rum demon. His heart is proof against such influences. Other murderers 6hrink from the mailings of the bereft and cannot encounter their tears or entreaties. But the rum murderer marches to the music of the widow's moan and sleeps soundly upon the couch bought with the price of the father's blood and the j orphan's bread. Other murderers smite with sudden destruction or human nature would revolt at the crime, but he murders by j inches. He *-ho slays with sword or dagger could not press the weapon with slow and steady movement to ?is victim^ iioorf witnpssincr his strueeles aud hearing his 6brieks and groans. The hand would become unsteady and refuse to move, but this murderer is ever unmoved by the fearful progress of his work. He sees the regal form trembling under his influence; he sees the lustrous eye grow heavy and dull: he marks the progress of his work in the rapid waning of intellect, the loss of health, ambition and character; he hears the senseless gibberish of his uufortunate victim, but never stays his hand until his work of death is com- i plete. We hear of murders by methods too horrid for contemplation, but in no form does death come so revolting as iD the case of the victims of rum. 2sTor can we compare the liquor traffic with the social evil1, for the fires of that burning furnace are fed by rum. and of all the known agencies for recruiting the ranks of the great army of fallen women the liquor traffic is notoriously the most efficient and constant in its activity. Besides such a comparison is an unjust and cruel reproach upon our fallen sisters who have been lured by that traffic and its less iniquitous allies to a life of shame. It is to add injury to the righteous condemnation which Christian civilization must pronounce against them. Prostitution may be fittingly compared with drunkenness but not with drunkard-making. Where, then, shall we find a crime to be compared with the traffic in rum? Is there such a crime? Yes, there is one and only cue. It is the crime of the procurer. The Great Teacher. Christ is familiarly known to us as "the Great Teacher." The earliest impression made by His person and la- i * V ? - ? U: r.nAnfi liQAllclv Dors, uie name wuii.11 giiuuinuwiu'v rose to tlie lips of those who were brought into actual contact with Him, was- Eabbi; that is, teacher. Even those who were teachers themselves felt that He possessed pre-eminent qualifications fo? teaching. "We know tliat Thou aj't a teacher come from God." Nineteen centuries testify to the power and success of His teaching. A Pr.iycr. Father, we thank Thoo that Thou hast given us each day a newer revelation of Thyself. We thank Thee that Thou hast njace \is free, ye^ mule? the compelling influence of a kindly universe. We thank Thee that Thou hast given us the greatest salvation men could have?the upward tendency. Amen. The leaders of the United Mine Workers' Union believe that if they can get the miners to stop drinking, their present splendid organization will prove simply invincible. TempeJance Insurance companies ask applicants, j "Do you drink intoxic-atiny liquor?" because a drinker is a perilous risk. If the dram shop, the retail traffic, is a menace to the public peace and morals it ought to be destroyed. Liquor taxation demoralises government. for it puts it into abnormal relations with a branded source of crime. in Maine, it is reported, an insurance company is to be organized to protect liquor dealers from the penalties of violating t<:e law. The liquor traftte is essentially criminal and vioimi?: it incites, panders to. harbors and defends every known ntui vice, and an.v reform party or reform measure which consents In the continuance of that traffic thereby limits anil defeats its own power lor o'OCll. It is nstonisiiinp how the suppression of the sal<? of intoxicants has til? effect of tonins up the morals of a city, town or villa u'?. If we he.i; a million pens every one of them would write: "Train the children to banish the drink fiend." Taxation dees not moralize the rum traffic. 1 / ' THE SUNDAY SCHOOL INTERNATIONAL LESSOM COMMENTS FOR JULY 8. Subject: The Doty of Forgiveness, Matt, zviil.t 21- 33?Golden Text, Matt. !., 13 ?Memory Terse*, 21, 22?Topic: Forgiving One Auotber? Commentary. I. Christ's teaching concerning forgiveness (vs. 21, 22). 21. "Came Peter." Peter always made himself very prominent. His question was suggested by Christ's words concerning offenses against others (Matt. 18:6, 7). "How oft." Peter perceives that a law of tenderer dealing is to prevail in the church than exists in the synagogue. "And I forgive." He knew it was his. duty to forgive, b^t the question was how often. "Till seven times." Peter uses the term seven in a strictly literal 6ense. The teaching of the rabbis was never to forgive more than three times. 22. "Until seventy times seven." It is doubtful whether the original means four hundred and ninety or seventyseven (seventy times seven, or "seventy times and seven," as in margin of Revised Version). But in either case it is a symbolical expression for neverending forgiveness. II. Our duty illustrated and enforced (vs. 23-27). 23. "Kingdom of Heaven likened." The teachings of Christ with respect to forgiveness are fully illustrated in the parable which follows. It shows, 1. The character of man's rela tion to liOQ. Z. xne real meuniug uu man's part of a distinct refusal to forgive. "King." The king represents God. "Would make a reckoning." R. V. The picture is drawn from an Oriental court. The fundamental moral principle in God's kingdom is righteousness. The great King of Heaven and earth -will, one day, reckon with all of His subjects. "Servants." Those to whom God hasvcommitted great trusts and opportunities. 24. "Ten thousand talents." Ah enormous sum. The amount cannot be reckoned definitely. It has been estimated all the way from nine to twenty | millions of dollars. 25. "Had not to i pay." Our debt to God is so great that: we are utterly incapable of making Him any satisfaction whatever. "Commanded him to be sold." An allusion to the Law of Moses. See Exod. 22:3; Lev. 25:39, 47.; 2 Kings 4:1. Creditors had power to sell insolvent debtors in several countries of Europe, as well as in Asia, in ancient times. We thus see by this parable what our sins deserve. Captives to sins ere captives to wrath. "And payment to be made." The amount obtained would be wholly inadequate to cancel the debt, but as large a payment was to be made as possible. 26. "Will pay thee all." The debt is admitted- and he comes pleading for mercy. The means which a sinner should use to be saved are, 1. Deep humiliation of heart. 2. Fervent prayer. 3. Confidence in the mercy of God. 4. A firm purpose to devote his soul and body to his Maker. 27. "Forgave him the debt." We are debts of our heavenly King. But, if we cast ourselves at His feet, He is ready in infinite compassion not only to release us from punishment, but to forgive us the debt. III. The doom of the unforgiving (vs. 28-35). 28. "An hundred pence." About fifteen or sixteen dollars. About j one millionth part of the debt this un-1 merciful servant had owed the king. "Took him by the throat." Thus manifesting a most unkind and base disposition. The sin is greatly aggravated when we consider his own debt, and> the mercy shown him. What are my brother's sins against me compared to my numberless sins against God. "Pay me that thou owest." He was unwilling even to forgive him a single dollar. He must pay In full and pay at once. We must be very careful and not show this same disposition in our treatment of others. 29. "Fell down at his feet." His fellow-servant humbled himself and plead for mercy as he himself had done just before this. 30. "And he would not." Such a man; so harsh ana nara against uiust who are in every way his equals. Ignorance of his own condition makes him unforgiving and cruel to others. 31. "Were very sorry." An act of this kind is so dishonorable to all true Christians, and to the spirit of the Cos- j pel, that through the concern they fell I for the prosperity of the cause of Christ they are obliged to speak against it. 32. "Thou wicked servant." Unmercifulness is great wickedness. To the unmerciful, God will have no mercy; this is an eternal purpose of the Lord which can never be changed Jesus said, "If ye forgive not men tbei! trespasses, neither will your Fathei forgive your trespasses" (Matt. 6:15), 33. "Even as I had pity cn thee." The servant is here shown the obligation he is under to his fellow-servant because of the mercy that had been shown him. It is justly expected that those who have received mercy shall show mercy. 34. "Delivered him to the tormenters." The person who does not have | a forgiving spirit will be tormented, both in this world and in the world tc come. A guilty conscience, the fear ol the judgment day and the fires of God's wrath (Rev. 20:15) will, in turn, act as tormenters. "All that was cine." i And inasmuch as the amount was s< I great that lie could never pay it, he must have been delivered over to the tormenters forever. The wicked will b< banished eternally from the presence of God. 35. "So likewise." This verse is at application of the whole parable. Th( parable is not intended to teach us thai Hod reverses His pardons to any; bul that He denies them to those who art not worthy of tliem. Those who hav< not forgiven others their trespasses have never yet truly repented, and that which is spoken of as having been taken away is only what they seemec' to possess. Luke S:1H. Mine of lnfortnatiou Officii)]. Chicago has a new official, and one that seems to be needed everywhere. Mayor Dunne has appointed F. L. Schwindeler as the official "mine of information." Mr. Schwindeler is expected to be prepared to answer all Questions nut by citizens, from tie price of a dog license to the date of the installation of municipal street cars. liar MinUter Became He Smoked. Because the Rev. John A. Burnett, of Monmouth, 111., smokes, the General Assembly of the United Presbyterian Church by a decisive vote rejected the resolution ot' the Committee 011 Nominations that the Rev. Mr. Burdett be made General Secretary of tie Young People's Society. * 1 Hartford For 5-clionlghip. The New York Board of Education | asked the Navy Department at Wash- } ington for the old frigate Hartford to ] serve as a schoolship in place of the ^ ancient sailing vessel St. Mary's. , Trolley Line* For Freight. The trolley lines are working into a 1 freight and express business. . ' ,'* i THE SUSTAINING HAND. The little child who wakes at night* \ Affrighted at the somber gloom, T And clamors for a ray of light . ) ' To drive the darknesii from the rood|f To quiet dreamland sweei.ly goes, , Contented, if a hand is near, Caressingly, because it knows There m no terror it need fear. So we, who stumble through the gloom) In aimless manner seeking light, ^ t Will blindly wander to our doom If traveling by our own might. But when in darkened paths we stray And cry aloud, the Father hears And reaches out His hand to stay Our apprehension and our fears. ?E. A. Bnnistool, in the Los Angelei Express. Gave Whit She Had. Rev. G. Campbell Morgan tells this story: "Some years ago, at home, a woman came to me at the close of the Sunday morniL^ service, and said: 'Oh, I would give anything to be iitf this work actively and actually. I would give anything to have some liyiner nart in the work that is sroinc on here next week in winning men and women to Clirist. but I do not know: what to do.' I said, 'My sister, are yon prepared to give the Master the five loaves and two fishes you possess?* She said, 'I do not know that I have five loaves and two fishes.' I said, 'Have you anything you have used in any way specially?' 'No, she did not .* think she had.' 'Well,' 1 said, 'can yoxt sing?' Her reply was, 'Yes, I sing at home, and I have sung before now in' an entertainment.' 'Well, now,' I wid,1 'let us put our hand on that. Will you give the Lord your voice for the next' --jten days?' She said, 'I will.' I shall; never forget that Sunday evening. I' asked her to sing, and she sang. She, sang the Gospel message with the voice she had, feeling that it was a poor,! worthless thing, and that night there' came out of that meeting into the inquiry room one man. That man said to me afterwards that it was the Gospel < song that reached his heart; and fronty luut uay iu luia?mat, ja uuw cicvcu vltwelve years ago?that *an has been one of the mightiest workers for God in that city and country I have ever known. How was it done? A woman gave the Master what she had." The Canker of Sin.* No one need lose that early, dewy fragrance of life, if he would keep fast hold of the innocence and conscientiousness of bis youth. It is not age that makes life bitter, weary, cynical; it ii the canker of sin that creeps in witlx the passing of the years. So long as one can keep his life and his thoughts orderly, pure, loving, trustful, so long will existence retain for him its perfume and gladness. , There are men and women who grow old In years, but never in teeling or outward expression. The inextinguishable Joy of youth continues with them unto the end. The ? fresnness or lire aoes not wear on. m They are as glad, ardent and unafraid H as children, and all because they have H kept their house of life in order. Right- H| eousness?therein lies the secret of all H optimism, happiness and peace. We H must keep righteousness, or we must H return to it, no matter how forespent H with evil, if we would feel the sun- H shine of joy upon our lives.?Ram'S H Horn. 'i'B God's Plin For Hi. . ' There is a work to be done in us. In H our own hearts and lives, which is even H more important than anything else as- H signed to us iu the scheme of the H world's activities, says the Her. Dr. J. flj R. Miller. There are lessons which we H can learn much better in the quiet,: [9 shaded sick room than outside in the, H glare of the streets. Our shut-in days H need never be lost days. Whatever, M they may cost us iu money or suffering, we need not be poorer when they: are over than if we had been busy all, BR the whilt at the world's tasks. 1 We, need only to accept God's way and ?o. H as He leads, and in the end we shall' find that not in the smallest matter, H have we ever been unwisely led, but H that every step He has brought us to H some good. fl Uuiltllnc l*nw?r 01 * nnnntnn, u| We cannot help one in whom we H nave no confidence. Therefore we must H| have confidence in many a one who gives little evidence of being worthy, H of our coufideuce. And it is always HE possible to find something to build H| upon, and to build with, in the most |B unpromising of our fellow-creatures. It takes power, of course, to discern the glimmer of worth in that which is jH debased and unworthy. Campbell Morgan. when expressing his confidence in BR the redemptive possibilities of men, interrupted himself with the question, Hi "Then you don't believe in total depravity?" "Yes," was the answer, "but M I believe that the thing depraved is a' great thing." What was made in God'al image can. by the Saviour's miracle,*" be restored to God's image. There is flB the ground of our confidence. ' A Frsyir. ) 9H We give Thee blessing and thankseivincr that ail along the line of human ages Thou hast had martyrs and confessors. saints aud teachers, who have |H stood as the light and ensaraples'of mankind. We thank Thee that we have n entered into their heritage; that we have received tlw? wisdom, the truth and the grace of those who have gone j^B before us. And we praj that in our, minds and hearts the dayspring from J on high may arise continually, lending flfl us into a nobler and more beautiful and r sweeter life.?Horatio Stebbins. t O fresh, Manly Piety. There is s-jcli a deep, fresh. manly gjj piety in the teachings of Jesus, such love for man under all circumstances. [>oor. oppressed, despised, and sinful, aa ' BH we find nowhere else in the whole HH compass of antiquity.?Theodore Par? Dnj H The World A kit:. KB The universe is but one great city, |9H full of beloved ones, divine and human, by nature endeared to each other.-Epictetus. 9B B Bl Suction Pninp Saves Girl. The resourcefulness of Henry Cori Hfl bett, an oil well pumper at Clinton* flfl eille, Pa., saved the life of Bertha Col- 9H lingwood, aged fourteen years, who HE tiad been bitten on the calf of the leg HH 5y a copperhead snake. When the girl |H i-an screaming to Corbett he bound th0 B [eg above and below the wound and 8B then carried her hastily to the pump station, in which was a suction gas fiH [>ump. He placed the wound over thd HB ?nd of the pump which takes in the) lir, and held the girl there till tM flB poison was sucked out of the lee, B9